


the universe into a ball

by fatal_drum



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Ficlet, First Kiss, Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, hugging it out, jon loves you, seriously martin stop hiding from your friends and your future boyfriend, set in season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-01-31 21:14:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18599542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatal_drum/pseuds/fatal_drum
Summary: Martin can't avoid his friends forever. Jon lays his cards on the table.In which the author asks,what if they just hugged it out?





	the universe into a ball

It shouldn’t have happened. Wouldn’t have, if Martin hadn’t been so tired of skulking around like a thief in his own workplace, trying to avoid everyone he cared about and desperately wanted to see. If Martin hadn’t been so tired in general. There wasn’t enough tea in the world to revive him after the nightmares he was having, and coffee made him feel queasy.

So yeah, Martin was trying his hardest, but he wasn’t _perfect_ , as everyone had made abundantly clear, so he fucked up.

“Hello,” Jon said thickly. His eyes held Martin’s. The dark smudges under his eyes were getting darker every day, and there were new lines on his face. Martin’s fingers itched to touch them, but he tightened his fingers into a fist instead, nails digging into his palm.

“Hello, Jon.”

Martin soaked up the details. Jon’s hair needed cutting. Several days’ worth of stubble dusted his jaw. His left hand was smeared with ink. There was a stain on his shirt cuff—tea, he thought—and the fabric was beginning to fray. He’d buttoned his shirt crooked, and one end hung lower than the other. Instead of his usual aftershave, he just smelled of dust and smoke, with a hint of sweat.

 _I suppose—I miss you,_ Jon had said before. Had he meant it? _Could_ he mean it? Martin felt a jolt of pain in his palm, and ignored it.

“Jon, you know I can’t.”

He didn’t finish the sentence, but they both knew. _Be here. Talk to you. Help you._

Jon sighed, looking down. “I—I know. I just. I need—”

Without warning, Jon launched himself at Martin, who suddenly had an armful of skinny, unshaven Archivist. His arms wrapped around Jon without his permission. Jon fit into his arms perfectly, his face tucked between Martin’s neck and shoulder. He could feel Jon’s breath against his neck, harsh and unsteady.

“Jon—”

 _“Please,”_ Jon croaked out, and Martin ran a hand down his bony shoulder. Jon relaxed, just slightly, against his chest.

Up close, he could see every thread of grey in Jon’s hair. It was unwashed and obviously hadn’t seen a comb in days, but he ran his fingers through it anyway, feeling Jon shudder and bend his neck for more. Martin had never felt anything softer. Every moment that passed made something melt in him. He had to stop—

Jon lifted his head, staring into Martin’s face.

“Would you—?” Jon began, then stopped. “That is, I want—but I don’t—”

It was at that moment Martin realized Jon was staring at his mouth. Slowly, he lifted a hand to cup Jon’s jaw. Then he bent, inch by inch, waiting for Jon to change his mind.

It was Jon who closed the distance, reaching up to pull Martin in. Martin’s brain shorted out, filled with nothing but the feeling of Jon’s chapped lips against his, each slow, soft movement making him ache. The whole universe was reduced to the feeling of Jon in his arms, safe and snug, and the fact that _yes, he could_ have _this._

Something inside Jon seemed to melt, and he sagged against Martin, parting his lips for more, and Martin gave it, letting Jon in, giving himself to Jon. He poured all his want and longing into the kiss, and to his shock, Jon gave it back to him.

When they finally pulled apart, Jon’s eyes were wet.

“Please don’t go,” Jon said.

Martin opened his mouth to speak, but the excuses wouldn’t come to him. All his reasons, his duties, turned to dust in his mouth. Instead, he reached to brush Jon’s hair out of his face.

“I won’t,” he said finally. “I’m not going anywhere.”


End file.
